


Swords and Words

by 100demons



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: F/M, Silver Millennium Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 00:42:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5949583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought we were here to spar with swords, not words and politics, my lady.”</p><p>Venus’s mouth curved into a small, lethal smile. “Is there a difference?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swords and Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaoticrandomness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticrandomness/gifts).



“Up for a spar, then, General?”

Kunzite raised his hand just in time to catch a beautiful crystal sword, entirely transparent except for a faint glimmering sheen on the body of the blade, like waves of light captured in stone. Through the hilt, he caught a fractured view of his black gloved hand.

He tested the edge of it with a finger. Blunt; it would draw blood no more than any normal practice sword, and was nearly as light.

“Not wood?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as the lady Venus swept her rich golden hair up into a practical horsetail.

“Why would we waste something as valuable as wood on this sort of thing?” Venus shot back, hefting her own practice sword in her hand. It looked the same as his own, but its past use was marked by a small crack in the tip of the blade. She stalked towards him and into the marked circle in the center of the gymnasium, her blue eyes glittering with intent. “Of course, if your Minister of Trade was a bit more reasonable about the export agreement, it might be a different story.”

Kunzite unpinned his cloak and let the rich blue silk fall to the ground in a puddle. “I thought we were here to spar with swords, not words and politics, my lady.”

Venus’s mouth curved into a small, lethal smile. “Is there a difference?” 

Kunzite smiled back, showing all of his teeth. “Why don’t we find out,” he said, and swept forward to strike the first blow.

The blades rang like church bells on impact, piercing and sweet. Venus laughed with delight, her mouth inches from his own. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she grinned.

“Oh, yes,” Kunzite said, looking down at her. “Very much so.”

There was a flicker of heat in her eyes and then suddenly she swept her sword away and towards his unguarded side, lunging forward unerringly. Kunzite barely brought his blade up in time to block the blow, music chiming in the aftermath.

“For once,” Venus said, softly, “I’m rather glad we’re not using live steel. I would hate to scar that pretty face of yours.”

“I would be proud to bear any mark you make on me, my lady,” Kunzite replied, just as quietly, watching the way her eyes widened, just a touch, and then pressed in for the advantage.

They traded blows without word after that, each parry and thrust filling the air with a constant, cacophonous ringing, timed to the rhythm of their movements. She did not falter; he did not yield. After a long, aching exchange, they broke apart and circled each other warily, the music of the blades fading away into an empty silence, punctuated only by their rough breathing.

“Do you mean that?” Venus broke the quiet, her voice hoarse. Sweat dripped down the curve of her neck, darkened the crown of her golden hair.

“My lady,” Kunzite said, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his tunic, breath coarse and ragged. “I have never lied to you and I would not think to dishonor you so.”

She considered him carefully, her head tilted an angle very like a bird. “I think I understand my princess a little more now,” Venus said cryptically. Kunzite hardly began to puzzle out the meaning of her words when she suddenly went in on the attack, her sword battering through his defenses as if they were made of vapor. Even as she wore through him, Kunzite couldn’t help marvel at her flawless footwork, at the honed savagery of her movements.

She made a quick, clever twist of her wrist and Kunzite found his hand parted from his blade, the practice sword flying through air and clattering to the floor.

The tip of her sword felt cool against the slick skin of his throat. Venus closed in, her breath ghosting over his jugular. “General, do you yield?”

“Gladly,” he said, and bent his head to press his mouth against hers.


End file.
